Nearly six months later, Prince superfans still mourning

NEW YORK -- Have you ever missed someone so much, even the thought of him made you burst into tears? Imagine that feeling drenched in purple rain.

Nearly six months after the death of Prince, some superfans still are grieving hard, creating tearful memes, snapping up "I Still Miss Prince" T-shirts featuring a despondent Charlie Brown, sharing photos and seeking solace in fresh concert videos and unreleased music on YouTube.

They see no end in sight to their sadness, especially with regular Prince developments in the news -- details on the death investigation, his house being turned into a museum and today's official tribute concert in his hometown of Minneapolis among them.

Maria Newport still cries regularly over the loss. She broke up with her boyfriend soon after Prince was found dead April 21. When she heard about it, "I just started wailing. Like, fetal position, in my bed."

As for the boyfriend, she said he didn't get it, in that raw moment or in the weeks that followed.

"He could not understand. He couldn't understand the pain," Newport said of the guy she had been seeing for about a year and thought she would marry. "He would say, 'This is the dumbest thing ever. Like, you've never met this man."'

Ron Worthy, who lives in Brooklyn, runs a music-focused website, Soulhead.com, and recalls his first encounter with Prince's music, listening to the naughty "Soft and Wet" on the radio when he was a tender 7 years old.

He knew it was about stuff grown folks do, but that and Prince's numerous other sex songs "basically gave you instructions on some level on how to be vulnerable with women, how to be a competent and giving and unselfish lover."

He said of the death, "I just walked around in a daze for weeks. I still cry when I hear certain songs like 'Breakdown' and 'Adore."'

Jazz buff Cheryl Emerson, at 66, doesn't fit the traditional Prince demographic but she, too, is profoundly saddened by the loss.

She wouldn't let her daughter, Rana Emerson, see the Oscar-winning "Purple Rain" at age 13 in San Antonio, shipping her off with her little brother to their grandparents' house so she and her husband could go alone opening weekend.

Emerson redeemed herself years later, when Rana -- now 45 -- was in her 20s. The two went to see Prince together twice; Rana three more times on her own.

"My heart's still broken," Cheryl Emerson said. "Why? Why wasn't there someone there to prevent it, to help him, to see what he was doing, to give him advice?"

She was referring to Prince's accidental painkiller overdose at 57 after decades of residual pain from epic live performances that had him madly jumping off pianos, doing multiple splits and -- to these fans -- giving them everything he had.

Newport had seen him just one time, at his final show in Atlanta, but her friend Margo Davis, a 40-year-old human-resources manager, barely can count the number of Prince shows she enjoyed, including some of his famous after-parties and concerts all over the United States, in London and at Prince's Paisley Park just outside Minneapolis.

Off the top of her head, she estimated more than 20. She has saved her ticket stubs. Every last one, including the one to Prince's last, intimate piano show in Atlanta with Newport, just a week before he died.

"It's a spiritual connection for me," Davis said. "I had to leave work when he passed. I still have days, like, it can't be real. It's still so hard. I couldn't listen to his music, I didn't turn on the TV or pay attention to any of the tributes. I'm finally able to listen, but in a very limited way."